


A Solid Hundred

by Skipp



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Asshole Matt, Bitchy Mark, Festive Skippus, M/M, Sort of Coffee Shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipp/pseuds/Skipp
Summary: “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate Christmas?”





	A Solid Hundred

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted a cute fluffy thing full of snow and hand holding, but my brain went the other direction. So here it is. A Coffee Shop AU I never planned to write, The Holiday Bitch Edition.
> 
> *****
> 
> Written for Festive Skippus 2017
> 
> *****
> 
> I guess you know the drill.. all mistakes are mine, all characters appearing in these works are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The situations, the dialogs and other relations are all fictional. The characters have their own personalities and choices that are not those of the real people. 
> 
> Do not post any of my works published here or elsewhere without my explicit permission.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate Christmas?” asked Mark while pouring milk into a paper cup, trying to not scald his hand or soil his apron.

“A solid hundred,” said Lia and smashed the lid on yet another empty coffee grinder. “Fuck, we’re already through the fourth batch of Sumatra and it’s not even lunch. You’re in this alone, I go fetch another bag. I’ll be back in a second,” she dusted off her hands and slammed through the staff door with a determined expression.

“God, would please teleport me to the lazy January days already? Pretty please,” sighed Mark, took the finished order and yelled at the waiting crowd. “Extra large cappuccino for Hur—, Herr—, Herbert!”

A guy with eyes glued to his phone stepped forward and snatched the cup out of Mark’s hand, not even lifting his gaze or saying thank you. Matt sighed again.

“Hey, can we order? We stopped shortly to get coffee and we’ve been waiting here for almost eight minutes!” complained a voice from the combo of black clad guys standing at the counter.

_What is it? Asshole Day?_ Mark turned. “Hi, yes of course! I apologize, we’re understaffed but try to do our best. What would you like to have?” he asked with his best customer voice and smiled at the dark haired man who was probably an owner of a platinum Hot Topic club and Sally’s make-up section cards at the same time. Or he was a chimney sweeper. Just like his buddy standing next to him.

“Two Sumatra double espressos to go. No sugar, absolutely no milk. And make it snappy.”

_Nice try man._ “I’m sorry we just run out of Sumatra, my colleague went to get new batch. If you want, you can wait a few minutes or I suggest you try the Tanzania.”

“Ugh,” groaned chimney sweeper number one. “Well, then I guess Tanzania. I hope the beans are not over roasted,” he glared at Mark.

“No, of course not. They’re from Yo Mama if you happen to know the roasterie.”

“Oh, yes we do,” both chimney sweepers nodded ardently, looking equally surprised and impressed.

“Wait…, Matt, do you want anything?” Number One turned head to the guy standing behind them.

_Holy shit, is that a plastic tattoo choker?_ Mark almost cackled but managed to keep a polite customer face.

“Tea please. Green tea, preferably matcha…, if you have any?” frowned the choker guy while skimming through the offer written in big bold letters on the wall above Mark.

_You’re cute but you had at least eight minutes to go through the whole list and yet you did not_ Mark screamed in his head. “Unfortunatedly we only sell coffee, sir. But I can offer you perhaps an espresso from the Colombian Supremo beans. It’s a dark roast, sort of citrus-like acidy and fruity flavoured, quite similar to green tea I have been told,” offered Mark with a patient smile.

“Citrus? Fruity?” the guy’s eye widened and then he frowned, “that—”

“Quit it Matt. If they don’t have it, don’t sweat it,” raised Number One hand and Number Two rolled his eyes really hard like this was not the first case.

_Throwing tantrums seems to be your business, huh._ “Then perhaps mineral water?” Mark shifted weight to his other foot.

“Ah, yes.”

Mark nodded, grabbing a bottle from the stand.

“Not carbonated, please.”

_Of course. You ass._ Mark wanted to scream. Instead of it he moved hand to the lower shelf. “Of course, sir. That’ll be two twenty,” placed Mark a different bottle on the counter adding another blinding smile. He serviced the rest of the Sweeper clique and moved to the next customer.

**

“What the fuck is that?” Mark pointed at the bush of green dangling from one of the store lights.

“What?” raised Bob his head from where he was counting the bank notes in the register. “Oh, that. Mistletoe,” he answered unafazed.

Mark sighed and pulled up another chair, placing it on the table.

“Maybe if you were less bitchy and sarcastic, then you would have someone to kiss under it,” chirped Bob slamming the register close.

Mark moved the little trolley bucket with water closer to the tables and tipped the mop in. “Oh sure, I smile at every motherfucker and suddenly love comes dancing through the door. That’s not how it works man.” He pushed the bucket further, sweeping floor around the entrance rug, when the door suddenly swung open.

“Sorry, we’re clo—,” was all Mark managed to say before the intruder slipped on the wet floor and with a surprised “ _Oh?_ ” went down.

“Shit,” Mark dropped the mop and what a surprise. The person splayed on the floor was no other than Choker ass from yesterday morning. _Karma, bitch,_ thought Mark but bowed instantly to the helpless guy on the ground.

“What the fuck? What happened?” asked Choker while trying to catch focus. “A mistletoe?” then he spotted Mark and grimaced, “You? Fuck, no!”

_Excuse me?_ Mark scowled and folded his arms over chest.

“You slipped on the wet floor,” answered Bob who came running from the counter. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” grumped Choker and tried to slowly hoist himself up.

Mark watched him turn and catch his ankle.

“Ow, that hurts,” hissed the asshole in black and dramatically covered his eyes.

“Does it?” Mark mocked with a badly hidden schadenfreude.

Bob scowled at him and bend down to examine the ankle. To Mark’s amusement Choker wore colourful socks with The Count from Sesame Street his black creepers.   _No wonder you slipped in such ridiculous shoes_ thought Mark grinning at his own Vans satisfied.

“It looks like it’s sprained. Can you get up?” Bob, pulled down one of the chairs and helped Choker to sit on it.

The ankle was slowly swelling. Stepping on it raised actual tears in Choker’s eyes. “I’ll call an ambulance,” Bob offered but Choker was not enamoured by the idea. “No please, no ambulance. Or doctors, I’m afraid of anything hospital related. They will use needles and I hate needles.”

“But your ankle is probably sprained. You have to see a doctor and get an x-ray.”

“No, I don’t have to! I’m sure one or two days at home with my leg raised up will work magic,” Choker contradicted, visibly more pale in face than before.

“But—”

“Please. I beg you.”

Bob sighed. “But we gotta do something. You’re not able to walk, I need to leave,” he checked his watch, “like right now. And Mark sure want’s home too.”

Mark nodded. “Where are the other sweepers? They will take you home, if you’re _so_ afraid of hospitals.”

“The who?” Choker blinked.

“Your pals from yesterday.”

“Oh, they went already back to Chicago. I’m staying over the weekend. I came today to buy some additional presents.”                                                                                              

_Chicago, that explains everything_ snickered Mark.

“Mark, you have a car here, please take care of,” Bob paused, ”I forgot to ask you what’s your name, sorry man.”

“No it’s fine. I’m Matt,” said Choker and shook Bob’s hand.

“I’m Bob and this is Mark,” pointed Bob at Mark, checked his watch again and stood up.

“Please Mark, take care of Matt,” continued Bob on the way behind the counter to grab his things from the staff room, “and take him to the place he stays at. I really need to go. See you tomorrow.” Bob disappeared through the door.

_What the?_ “Aaah?” was everything Mark could reply before Bob was gone.

Matt turned his face to him, “So, will you help me to the hotel?”

“No, why the hell would I? I’ll call you a cab!” Mark threaded eyebrows.

“You were ordered to take me to my hotel personally. I don’t like the smell of cabs,” Matt actually wrinkled his nose.

“I pay for the cab just to get rid of you,” Mark narrowed eyes. _Is there something this guy actually likes?_

“No. I demand you take me…, you know, I could sue the shop for not having up a wet floor sign up?” said Matt in a well pointed tone.

“You barged in after we closed, you motherfucker!” Mark was boiling.

“And now you’re verbaly insulting me?” Matt smirked.

“The hell I’m not. You alone insult yourself with that choker and eye shadow,” Mark went for it. If he has to drive that jerk to the hotel, let it be clear what he thinks of him. _Merry fucking shitmas to me._

**

“Wow, you listen to really shitty music,” mocked Matt Lagwagon’s _Rager_.

“My car, my music.” Mark was determined on keeping the interaction to minimum. It was enough that he had to support the guy on the way to his car. That oversized raccoon plastered himself on Mark almost like he wanted to be carried. The absence of space between then revealed that Matt apparently liked to use perfume. Dark and heavy, musky but also slightly sweet. Mark tried to remember where he smelled it…, scented candles maybe? It was very exotic and tickled his nose.

“Yea, shitty skater punk,” Matt continued to insult him.

“Someone’s got a big mouth for an overgrown emo jerk. Sorry I don’t have any AFI,” snorted Mark.

“Haha, I don’t listen to AFI,” chuckled Matt to Mark’s surprise.

“Well you sure look like someone who would sleep in front of the box office to get the best tickets.”

“I’d rather hear some Creatures or Cristian Death than AFI.”

“Christian Death? Of course you would. Fortunately got none of that emo crap.”

“Goth,” Matt corrected him.

“Whatever.”

Mark stopped to give way to another car. The traffic was heavy, Friday evening traffic jam.

“Can I lift my leg and place it on the dashboard? It sort of hurts.”

“Don’t soil my car with your ugly shoes,” Mark checked the car in the rear mirror.

“Fine.”

“Can we stop for a coffee?”

“What?”

“I’d like to get some coffee. _Please_ ,” Matt added.

“I thought you drink tea.”

“I drink both coffee and tea. Why do you think I went to the store?” laughed Matt.

“God you’re such an asshole. Listen smart ass. I’ll dump you here on the pavement, hm? You can crawl the rest of the way to the hotel,” Mark’s tone was not nice at all.

“I’m trying to be nice and polite. You pull up that pathetic I’m-a-skater-too-cool-for this-world attitude.

Mark thanked for the red light that blinked and his eyes left the road turning to Matt. “Pathetic?? Me? Drop dead, motherfucker,” he grinded teeth. 

“Get fucked,” snapped Matt back.

“Ha! Do you volunteer or what?” Mark’s tongue was faster than his brain.

_Oh shit._

Matt stared at him and slowly lifted his left brow.

Mark swallowed hard, his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

In a faint green light Matt’s eyes slid to Mark’s mouth and then returned back to his eyes. “What if I do?” he said cocky, tilting head a little to the side.

A loud car horn went off from the card standing behind to remind Mark that he should go. _Fuck, that was close_. He turned attention back on the road and thanked all saints for protecting his big mouth.

Matt sat quiet in his seat, occasionally throwing amused side glances that Mark tried to ignore.

“On the next corner right and then we’re there.”

Mark nodded instead of answering because he was too afraid that his voice would give him away.

They parked in front of a small family house in the suburbs of LA. The windows were dark, just like the front garden.

“Here?”

“Yeah, a friend of mine owns a few houses that he does not use. Only thing missing is the room service.”

_You get to have a whole house for yourself and yet you complain?_ “Yeah, it was a pleasure to meet you, Matt. Now ciao,” Mark tried to speed things up.

“Oh no, you don’t weasel yourself out of it so easily,” Matt shook his head. “You have to help me inside.”

“I’m not your caretaker. You should get that ambulance if you liked to be taken care of. Jerk.”

“I’m the one who sat almost an hour in a car with a hurt leg without a possibility to lift it. Now it’s swollen and hurts like a bitch because you forbid me to place it on the dashboard.”

Mark heavily exhaled. “Sorry, I didn’t though of that.” Now he really looked like an asshole.

He helped Matt our of the car. The swelling was visible, building a bulge between Matt’s shoe and the tight bottom rim of his black pants. Mark felt terrible. _This really has to be painful_ he thought as he placed Matt’s arm around neck and supported him in the walk to the door. Matt hissed at almost every step.

They were moving slow, the exotic smell was back, filling Mark’s nose again. It seemed to be the strongest around Matt’s neck, pointing out how close the other man was.

Matt suddenly lurched and Mark’s hand went instantly down his back, helping to keep him upwards. “Are you okay?”

“If you needed to cop a feel of my ass you could actually ask. I wouldn’t mind,” Matt smirked and now Mark wanted to kick him.

“No I didn’t! How did you come up with the idea? I did not want you to sprain another ankle.”

“You could, it’s a nice ass,” Matt waved his free hand and emulated groping something round.

“Shut up,” Mark’s breath was getting a little shorter.

“You’re blushing.”

“You can’t see it in the dark!”

Matt’s face was full of glee. “Ha, I knew it.”

_That smug bastard._ Mark wished for the way to the door to be short but Matt slowed down, leaning heavily into him. Mark tried to convince himself that he was not intrigued by the guy with black eyeliner.

Finally they reached the entrance. The door was heavy and wooden, with some Christmas decoration placed near the top. Planters with greenery stood on both sides.

Mark watched Matt searching in his pockets for keys. He had a slim body frame, a bit shorter than Mark, decent amount of muscle mass too. Mark discovered it when he was helping him to walk and he hated to admit that Matt, was quite handsome. But the choice of clothes was ridiculous. Skinny black pants, a size larger black shirt with some intricate scripture Mark assumed to be band logo and a black jacket. In the dry and hot LA winter.

Matt pulled out the keys and unlocked the door. “So what do you say? Wanna see my collection of animal skulls?” he waggled eyebrows.

“I’m sure you have one,” sighed Mark and pinched his nose bridge. “Listen. I’m sorry about what I said in the car. I’m not—”

“Gay? Pfft, sure,” Matt waved hand.

“What? No, well, yes, yes I am. I meant, I’m usually not this nervous and I know I have a big mouth.”

Now Matt laughed loud and Mark felt the redness creep to the top of his ears. He kicked an imaginary pebble. That damn perfume clouded his brain. “Well you were the one who saw me and said _Fuck no,_ ” He tried to counter.

“Should I cheer or what? I just made a complete fool out of myself in front of a guy I find cute!” Matt grimaced.

_Oh._

“Yeah,” Matt, smiled and lowered his gaze. When he looked up back at Mark his cheeks were burning red. “So what do you think.., are you up for a coffee?” he asked quietly but in earnest.

_For fuck sake._ “Of course I am. How the hell should you get around the house? Hop like a rabbit?” Mark grabbed Matt’s arm and threw it over his neck. “You smell weird.”

“It’s patchouli. I love it. Egyptian embalmers used it in the mummification process.”

“And here I thought Halloween is the best day to go on a date with the undead,” murmured Mark and kicked the door close.

The door slammed hard, cutting off Matt’s genuine laugh. A little mistletoe sprig fell from the door decoration and landed on the doorsill.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to check out all the other wonderful works posted here under #Festive Skippus :] 
> 
> Happy holidays y'all


End file.
